


Make Marmalade (When Life Gives You Lemons)

by christinefromsherwood



Series: 007 Fest 2020 [22]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Strong Language, With A Twist, in places, such a fluffy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood
Summary: Q and James go shopping.“Why?” was the question Q asked, holding up a jar of lemon and ginger marmalade.“Why what?”Q ground his teeth, then he took a deep breath. It was perfectly possible that James had no idea what he meant.It was possible, but unlikely.He thrust the jar at James, curly font forward. James took it from him hesitantly.“Why did you put this in the cart?”James furrowed his brow. “...Because I thought we should buy it?”“No.”
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: 007 Fest 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809718
Comments: 28
Kudos: 152
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	Make Marmalade (When Life Gives You Lemons)

**Author's Note:**

> Anon Prompt #47/2020 - James and Q argue about what marmalade to buy from the store. 
> 
> Many thanks to dear Souffle for giving this a thorough look and informing me that they don't sell blueberry jam in the UK. (the rest of you are welcome to join me in feeling outraged.)

“ _Why_?” was the question Q asked, holding up a jar of lemon and ginger marmalade. 

“Why what?”

Q ground his teeth, then he took a deep breath. It was perfectly possible that James had no idea what he meant.

It was _possible_ , but unlikely.

He thrust the jar at James, curly font forward. James took it from him hesitantly.

“Why did you put _this_ in the cart?”

James furrowed his brow. “...Because I thought we should buy it?”

“No.”

“...No?”

“No, we’re not buying this.”

“And why not?” 

Q bit his lip.

There were a lot of things Q liked about his relationship with James. 

He loved waking up in the morning with James’ deep breaths tickling his ear, playing with the hole at the back of his pyjama collar, slowly teasing him awake. 

He loved watching him try to be stern with Twix, but always inevitably falling for her fluffy belly, getting his hand captured by a flurry of paws and teeth.

He loved settling down in the bathtub with him, feeling James’ strong muscles under his legs, and burying his fingers in James’ hair. 

He loved waking up from an afternoon nap to the smell of spices and James rummaging in the kitchen. 

He loved watching movies together, and being able to lean closer and kiss James just so, run his palms down his back, stroke his thumb through the short stubble at the back of his neck.

He loved… He loved _James_ , and he wished-

Q swallowed against the wave of a desperate something he could feel rising in his throat.

Well, there was at least one thing that Q not only vastly preferred doing on his own, but actually actively discouraged James from joining in! 

Shopping.

James had basically two modes. 

The first one Q called his _veni, vidi, bought-it_ mode. 

That one usually appeared shortly after missions when James was still in his get-in-get-out mindset. And of course, there was nothing wrong with that style of shopping when you went alone, and had a detailed list. 

Only, it became much less endearing when your shopping partner went zooming through the shop, grabbing the first thing he saw (without checking the expiration date, or quality, or what he was actually taking) and throwing it in the shopping basket, before you made it two steps in, and _he_ then spent the majority of the trip tapping his foot impatiently, checking his watch. 

James’ second shopping personality was given the nickname _The_ _Dowager Duchess of Tootington._

Not only did James take ages to agonize over each bloody Heritage tomato, he read the ingredients lists--oh yes, even the tiniest of fonts that sane people never bothered with! He carried a bloody magnifying glass around! He also had the tendency to eye the items Q had already put in the basket--perfectly acceptable things!--and make _faces_. 

So now, 2 years and at least 20 joint shopping excursions into their relationship, they usually took turns. Whoever happened to have more time that week, or was less done-in, grabbed the list off their fridge (and yes, in Q’s opinion syncing a notes app _would_ have been much more efficient) and went off to the shops.

But still, sometimes fate conspired against them and, suddenly, they found themselves standing across a shopping trolley from each other, arguing over a jar of marmalade.

Because surely, it was only the vagaries of fate that necessitated James having an appointment at his bank on the same day Q planned to do the weekly shopping.

Nothing more.

“We’re not buying lemon ginger marmalade because _you hate ginger_ ,” Q explained, forcing his voice to stay level. 

“I don’t mind-”

“You hate ginger,” Q barked. “The smell makes you nauseous. I know that. Don’t you think I know that by now? Didn’t you think I could tell?”

James narrowed his eyes. “Darling, are you-”

“Er- Excuse me,” came from behind him in an awkward squeak. A woman with a small child in her trolley reached past Q to grab a jar of blackcurrant jam. 

Rubbing his face, Q cleared his throat and tried not to feel too idiotic.

He could feel James’ eyes glued to his face.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, feeling the fight leave him suddenly. 

This wasn’t unexpected, was it? Hadn’t he always known on some level? Expected it, even. Ever since James had left with Dr. Swann, ever since he returned and Q decided to give him--give _them_ \--another chance... 

“I’m sorry. This isn’t the place. Let’s just…” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He was so tired. “Let’s just get home.”

“Q?” James was still watching him, the expression on his face growing stonier by the second. Q tried for some semblance of a smile, but the sight of James hovering the jar of marmalade over their trolley hurt a bit too much. 

“Do you actually want this?” he asked. James jerked his hand, as though he hadn’t even realised he was still holding the marmalade.

“I don’t- _you_ like ginger!” he accused.

Q sighed, wishing it hurt less. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Put it in and let’s get out.” 

They walked quickly through the aisles, cutting across the connected Sweets and Chocolate Bars sections to the tills. Q had been planning to grab a pack of lentils for his favourite dhal, but he’d lost all appetite now. 

They worked in tandem at the self-checkout desk; James handed Q items from the trolley, and Q scanned them and put them away, adjusting the bags whenever the computer felt there was: “An unexpected item in the bagging area.” 

So in sync, one would think. 

Well, it appeared one would be wrong.

After, James made a move to take all the bags, but Q was faster as he heaved the heaviest with milk and yoghurts over his shoulder. 

He wasn’t exactly clear on why--the thin, cloth straps dug painfully into the meat of his shoulder as they walked to the car--but it had seemed important he carry it for some reason.

Q waited until they put away the shopping and settled in their seats. Then he took a deep breath and said:

“I want you to stop.” 

“Sorry?” The sorry came out like a loud surprised bark.

Q chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes. That. Stop it.”

“I have no idea what-”

“Stop _fucking_ apologizing, James,” he groaned. “Stop feeling sorry for me. It’s alright. It happens. I understand.”

“Well, that’s great for you because I sure as fuck don’t.” James threw his hands up, before letting them fall heavily on the steering wheel. “What is actually happening right now, Q?”

Q had been putting this moment off for far too long. 

It wasn’t healthy; he was aware. 

But at first he’d decided not to give up without a fight, not like last time. Because last time, they weren’t anything. What were a few nights of desperate fucking in their line of work, after all. 

This time, though, they had two years worth of mornings in bed, nights in Medical, fights in the kitchen…

They were a _family_ , he and James and Twix. And that made it harder to believe, to accept.

But what else was he supposed to do after a month of James’ unspoken apologies and the fucking _pity_ in his eyes. 

He couldn’t make him _want to_ stay.

Q swallowed thickly. “I’m saying that I understand. That I know about Steve.”

“ _What_?!” James nearly shouted. “You do? How?”

“I heard you talking to Bill at the party. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but you weren’t exactly quiet and once I heard…”

“Q, this isn’t-”

“James, you said you loved him the moment you laid eyes on him. And that you just weren’t sure how to tell me, weren’t going to do anything before telling me. I heard it, love. I heard you.” Q couldn’t keep the bitterness, or the tears out of his voice. 

“Darling!” He really wished James wouldn’t call him that.

“Oh, I was pissed off,” he continued. “So very pissed off. But we’re both grown men. We haven’t made any promises and you’ve been so _kind_ , going out of your way to-”

“The party was a month ago, Q,” James interrupted, voice strained.

“I know,” he croaked.

“A _month_ ,” James repeated, covering his face with his hands. 

“I was waiting for you to say something, but then you didn’t and I didn’t want to-” Q shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been trying- _I don’t want you to leave, James_. I- I- I just…” 

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You’re not joking, you’re actually serious right now. Fucking Christ,” James groaned. 

Q ignored him and went on, stuttering: “I can’t take one more second of you feeling sorry for-”

“Q, come here,” James let out in a rush, suddenly turning towards him and drawing him closer. 

“Wh-?” 

James’ eyes were shining... wet? “Darling, just shut up and come here,” he pleaded and then Q felt James’ fingers twist in his hair, and James’s mouth hot on his lips. 

Q kissed him back, immediately, desperately, telling himself that just one more caress and he’d pull back, just one more _taste_ … James backed away first and Q _keened_ , reaching after him, wanting to drag him back.

Because it couldn’t be over, it just _couldn’t-_

“-a dog,” James was repeating hoarsely. “It’s a dog. Steve’s a dog.”

Q froze. His brain must have shut down, he wasn’t sure he-

“A dog? A dog. A dog,” his mouth echoed. James nodded, brushing his fingers across Q’s cheeks, wiping away the tears Q had no idea were there. 

Steve was a dog. 

James wasn’t kissing him goodbye.

“What kind of dog?” was apparently what Q’s mouth decided to say next, even as he was one leg over the gear shift, trying to get closer to James. 

“A German Shepherd,” James mumbled against his lips, and Q just nodded distractedly and kissed him again, hard and filthy. Because James wasn’t going anywhere, he was-

“You’re not leaving,” he found himself growling against the side of his jaw--half-question, half-command. 

“Darling, I don’t ever want to leave.” James laughed breathlessly as Q knocked his forehead against his, grinned and took his mouth again. 

The edge of the steering wheel was pressing against his right kidney, but Q didn’t care. He pushed against it as he tried to get closer, to find a better angle, more-

Underneath him James groaned into the kiss, shifting his thigh against Q’s cock, and Q had to slap his hand against the window to steady himself against the spark of-

“Aaah!” came a yelp from the outside.

From outside of the car window that Q had just knocked against.

Because they were in a car. In the Sainsbury’s car park. And that was the blackcurrant jam lady outside with her small child still in the trolley, staring at them with wide eyes.

Q hid his face in James’ neck and laughed until he couldn’t anymore.

* * *

Later, in the privacy of their bedroom, James raised his head from Q’s pillow--James’ pillow was currently somewhere on the floor, sporting a sizeable wet spot--and asked: 

“So for the last month, the last _thirty days_ , whenever I’ve brought you a cup of tea, or made you dinner, or kissed you, or blew you, or rimmed your arse, you took it to mean I was breaking up with you in a particularly roundabout way?”

Q bit at the plush muscle of his pec in retaliation. It did sound a bit idiotic when James put it like that. “Well, what else was I supposed to think?”

“You could have asked me?” James suggested, tugging at his ear.

Q snorted: “Oh yes, I could have just walked up to you and said: ‘So James, you’ve been walking around telling people you’ve found the love of your life, who quite obviously isn’t me, what’s that all about?’”

“Well, yeah?” Suddenly, all playfulness was gone from James’ voice, replaced by a hesitant tone. “And I would have told you that Steve is a German Shepherd puppy that Bill’s second cousin’s best friend bought for his brats but can’t actually handle. And that I’ve been thinking of taking a step back from field missions. And wondering if you would be interested in introducing Twix to Steve and seeing how they get on...”

Q’s mind whirled. That was a lot of information for his post-coital brain to handle in thirty seconds. 

No more field missions for James. 

Possibly housetraining a dog, instead.

Q let out a giggle at the thought of a thoroughly rumpled James Bond, rushing down the stairs of their townhouse with a peeing puppy in his arms. 

James joined in, his laughter vibrating through his chest. “We really need to talk more.”

Q nodded with a yawn. James had the best ideas. Like before when he sacrificed his pillow for the perfect angle. “Need to institute regular talking sessions. Put it in the calendar, Jeeves.”

James’ chest rumbled again; Q snuggled closer to hide his face against the light of the afternoon sun. 

“Taking into account that you’re useless at pillowtalk, Your Highness,” James said, “I’ll pencil it in before sex every Sunday.”

Q poked him somewhere soft with a knuckle. 

“Rude, so rude,” he hummed before he let the sleep take him to the sound of James’ soft laughter, safe in the knowledge that they’d both be there later, that they would talk later. 

Because, of course, they would. It was in the calendar.

(They should get a _fridge_ calendar!)

**Author's Note:**

> So? Any thoughts? 👀
> 
> If you'd like to read another fic of mine with an emotional rollercoaster and a lovely payoff, allow me to point your attention to:
> 
>   * [All the Curves and Edges](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22662337)
> _\- 00q early relationship, fluff and humour, Q gets jealous at a gala_
>   * [Serenade on Your Heartstrings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933185)
> _\- 00q established relationship, fluff and humour, Q forgot to kiss James in the morning and now he's been sent on a dangerous mission_ CONTAINS ART BY THE AMAZING KSANIA [(Ksan's instagram)](https://www.instagram.com/starrboned/) 



End file.
